


Sleepover

by Noh



Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Major Spoilers, Not really but just in case!, Spoilers for HC3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 02:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noh/pseuds/Noh
Summary: It's just a sleepover.





	Sleepover

    "You shouldn't be here, Bennett."

It's dark in the little backroom ━it's almost a closet, but _he's_ **always been so tiny** ━but Bennett squashes the urge to flick on the overhead lights. It might be a storage room, but the lights were as blinding as they were in the rest of the lab. Even now, the pile of blankets on the cot shoved far into the corner wiggled away from the thin stream that illuminated the area from where Bennett peeked around the door. There's a pang somewhere in his chest, dulled and faint, but _there_ and _real_ and _all too clear_ over the haze of soap that settles pleasantly over his thoughts. That's the only way he can stand here confidently, wasted beyond comprehension━ and yet he still _felt_. It's a fraction of what anyone normal probably senses, but he's far too jaded from years under concealer and needles to care.

    "Bennett?" The voice from the bed is small and muffled beneath the sheets and he opens the door more - the bundle squirms - and slips inside before shutting the door firmly behind himself. It's dark and he waits a moment to adjust to the lighting. He's dressed in his pajamas ( a tank top and smiley face boxers ) with a pillow clutched in his hands, having been ready to turn in and yet ...

    "We're gonna have a sleepover, Mr. Honikker!" The blonde winks and his hair bounced as he rocked on his feet. He's the picture of enthusiasm and even though he knows he's louder than he should be ( it echoes off the walls, false cheer ), the boy doesn't scold him. "Do you think you can handle the TV light? We need to have an all-night gaming session. Think you can _finally_ beat me at Dangerous Drift?" He waits a beat for there to be a response but it's eerily quiet. His fingers clench around the pillow and threaten to tear it but he keeps grinning. "I bought some of that soap, the rose kind. It's waaaaay too fragrant for me, so I guess _you'll_ just have to drink it on your own. Waste not, want not, right? Good thing it's your favorite!" He titters and at last, an eye peeks at him.

    It's quiet, and _then_ , "━I can't move my legs _._ "

He freezes, blinking owlishly. His lips move but nothing comes out and after a moment his shoulders sag with weight. The loss of motor functions was one of the final stages of ... **deterioration**. Had the scientist truly sat in here, in the dark, all by himself and simply waited to die? Felt each of his internal organs begun to fail and hadn't even made a peep in pain. After a second he glared around the room in realization. It was probably soundproofed, knowing Felix.

    But he can't be mad. It's not his place. They weren't ever **really** friends; he'd been friends with none of the Felix's or the Felicia's that had passed through here. This was a job for him. An order from Huxley. There was no reason to care. He could only manage to croak a faint,  _"Oh."_

For a moment it's just quiet all around them and Bennett hates it. It's never quiet when they're together. There's _banter_ and _insults_ and _sarcastic laughter,_ but never silence. Not this deafening quiet where he can hear every little wet, ragged half breath Felix takes. His lungs are failing, possibly filling with fluids if one of his false organs had dissolved or exploded. Maybe it was just blood at this point, it was different for each one. They all went differently. This one, however, was notably the quietest.

But no one would be as loud as the first Felix. Fresh, new, and soft like a newborn. Happy and eager to help everyone, sweet enough to soften even Florence. He'd cried and screamed and begged for someone to save him, or to hold him when his time had come. Florence hadn't been the same for a few years after that, and their soap intake had been doubled and Huxley changed the formula and allowed him to incubate longer. He was glad they'd kept that one hidden from Charlotte, although with the way she turned out, he doubted it would've made a difference, but no one deserved to go through that.

He dragged himself back to the present and decided he was far too sober. With a whistle, he chucked his pillow at the cot and relished in the indignant squawk, beaming as insults and curses of his name were hurled at him. Good ol' Felix.

    "I'll be back Mr. Honikker! I'll just bring the party to you!" He slipped from the room as quickly as he'd come, prancing off to the bathroom first.

Just like he'd said, there was a new and unopened bottle of rose scented soap; the expensive kind. He snatched that off the sink and then a bottle of the industrial stuff for himself, humming merrily as he left for the TV room. After a moment of indecision, he plucked up the smallest of televisions- and then put it back down, scowling at the microwave. He picked up the correct television then, squinting at the tiny screen before he shrugged and left the room. He'd have to strain to see, but it'd be easier on Felix. 

Predictably, Felix was right where he'd left him, though he was half propped up ( surely that was pride in his chest, knowing Felix was still stubborn ) and his head was peeking out of his cocoon, eyes wide and unseeing. Bennett faltered in the doorway, sighing quietly at the glazed look. _Right_. Vision was one of the **first** things to wane. How could he forget? The TV felt heavy in his hand, some bizarre palpable guilt. He could watch as much TV as he wanted for as long as he wanted. Felix probably thought he was some blob of color.

    "I still want to listen to it." For a second, Bennett was confused before he realized he'd been standing quietly, light streaming into the room. "Its better than listening to you prattle on mindlessly, you know. Now, where's my drink?"

The words kick him into action and he laughed, dumping the TV at the end of the bed and plugging it in before moving to press the bottle purposefully into Felix's hand. His pillow was propping the child up and he wiggled his way into the cot to lean back against the mass himself, knocking his shoulder against the younger's. It's a tight squeeze and it's a somewhat awkward tangle of gangly and stunted limbs, some bony and others softened by baby fat. Neither one of them were very ... affectionate ( not to mention touch hurt Bennett more than he would admit, and Felix was in the same boat now ), although soap was said to increase affection and sentiment in exchange of lessening some brain cells, or something. It was in the advertisement.

He twisted the cap off his soap and chugged merrily. Out the corner of his eye, he watched Felix sip from his own clumsily, hands shaking uncontrollably. More of it dribbled down his chin than it got in his mouth but Bennett pretended not to notice, turning his attention to whatever late-night program was going to rot his brain. Or so he hoped.

It's calm then, the constant chatter from the TV and Bennett's none too subtle attempts to casually narrate the actions on the show for Felix thoroughly enrapturing. At some point, Felix's head lolled against his shoulder, breath ragged and sweating profusely. It's sticky and disgusting against Bennett's bare skin but he doesn't cringe away because _Felix is smiling._ It's that familiar smug little grin, albeit watered down with frailty, but it's there like he's on top of the world and in control. He's warm, too warm. A fever too, huh? There's no reprieve in his suffering.

    Tiny fingers tuck into his and he blinked, sparing a sharp glance down at the odd sight. Felix seeks out his gaze and he _can't see,_ but Bennett shoves back his tears anyway. His voice is sleepy, subdued. "I _suppose_ I should thank you for ... being here, Ben." And then his eyes shut with a breathy little chuckle before he's wracked with a cough. Something splatters on the blonde's shirt, but he doesn't look away from the contented expression. 

Bennett blinked again. Once, twice. Breathe. Blink.

When his eyes opened again, searing light shone across his face and he scrunched up his nose, turning his face into the soft, wispy strands of hair next to him to hide and yawn. His cheek met ice. Blearily, he blinked to clear his vision of sleep and spared a glance down to the form wrapped in his arms, noticing the tell-all head of pink tucked underneath his chin and the night came flooding back to him. In the light, he could see the sunken cheeks that had taken on an ashen color, only making his hair even more vibrant. Felix looked even tinier, curled up into a ball and tucked into his much larger body, having no doubt been trying to soak up whatever warmth he could steal from Bennett as his own body failed to provide him the privilege. He was long cold now, dried blood gathered at the corner of his mouth and trailing down from his nose.

Huxley stood in the doorway, body bag in hand. It must be morning. He tosses it into the room ( next to the shattered remains of the TV Bennett guessed they kicked off in the middle of the night ) and even though his mask was firmly in place, Bennett doubted he spared a glance to the child ━ the CORPSE ━ sprawled next to him.

    "Clean it up for me, will you?" His tone is merry, but it's an order. "I loathe admitting that as per usual, the experiment was a failure, but I have good news. Starting today we will proceed with Florence's android fleet blueprints! This will be the last of the Felix Honikker's. Won't that be a relief?"

Not for the first time, Bennett wondered how long a debt lasted.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and not proofread wheeze. It's 1 AM I have MANY regrets.  
>  **Edit** Proofread and edited at 11AM but I can guarantee it's still terrible.


End file.
